


Caretaker Auction

by Su1010



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: First Times, Friends to Lovers, M/M, MSBY Jackals, butterfly metaphors, concussion, idiots to lovers, slightly domestic, they're the whole circus your honour, top-tier clowning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29429328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Su1010/pseuds/Su1010
Summary: There's a first time for everything, and that includes giving your teammate a concussion and being auctioned off by your other teammates to take care of him.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 32
Kudos: 224
Collections: SakuAtsu Fluff Week 2021





	Caretaker Auction

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for Day 1 of Fluff Week - tier 2 and tier 3. I banged this out under 24 hours so please excuse any mistakes you may see and hopefully you enjoy!

It’s the first training session of the new season. There’s a momentary wave of silence that shrouds the players clad in shades of black and gold. It lasts for precisely five minutes and ten seconds before the whistle blows and all of them lunge forward.

Sakusa can spot Atsumu setting the ball and rushes over to the right, feet firmly planted on the hardwood floor, tethered, _grounded_. He sees how the light from the fluorescent light hanging overhead reflects in those amber eyes that have grown familiar despite stemming from foreign roots. He sees the way Atsumu’s fingers cradle the ball in his palm, and he knows the fire running through his veins, sparking at the fingertips. He knows how it feels to have the same fire coursing through his bare anatomy too.

He sets; Sakusa spikes, and in one single moment of miscalculation, the ball soars across the net like the butterfly Sakusa spotted outside the gym earlier and knocks straight into Atsumu’s head, sending the setter falling and crashing onto the floor. There’s a single _thump_ and then everyone starts running.

The whistle resonates throughout the empty space again, this time for entirely different reasons and Sakusa feels bile coat his throat the nearer he gets to Atsumu’s crumpled form, the boy hunched on the floor, soft moans escaping him. 

Normally Sakusa would have teased him that it was out of pleasure. But the way Atsumu has his eyes closed while holding a hand to his head, Sakusa knows it’s from pain. 

“Atsumu,” Meian kneels down next to the blonde-haired setter, worriedly prying his hand away from the point of injury. A hiss from Hinata and Inunaki as well as a rather dramatic gasp from Bokuto alerts Sakusa who is standing behind Barnes and as a result, has his vision obscured, that the injury may be far worse than he initially thought.

He steps in front of Barnes and gazes down to see Meian waves two fingers in front of Atsumu’s face, Atsumu trying (and failing) to follow them.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Meian asks and Atsumu’s answer is a soft murmur barely above the tone of a whisper.

“Three.”

Adriah’s snort turns into a cough as he tries to mask his amusement and Meian looks at his teammate in horror while bringing the one index finger he has up closer to his face until it’s almost touching Atsumu’s nose.

“Now?”

There’s a momentary pause of silence in which everyone waits with bated breath for the answer which turns out to be fairly disappointing. “Four.”

“Fuck.”

“It may be a concussion,” Inunaki blurts out. He gestures to Atsumu’s eyes which Sakusa notices are rather dull and have lost the shine he noticed merely a few minutes ago.

“His eyes are glazed over,” Hinata says and Inunaki nods.

“He’s also visibly confused, try asking him the date.”

“Tsum-tsum,” Bokuto bends down beside him as Sakusa watches with equal parts despair and desperation. “Do you remember what day it is today? And what we were doing before this?”

Atsumu slowly shakes his head and winces as his teammates mirror his expression, knowing how much it must hurt. 

“Valentine’s Day, I was at home and now I’m here.”

“He’s right about _one_ of those things at least,” Barnes supplies on a cheery note and Meian narrows his gaze at his teammate. 

“It could be more serious than we think it is. I’ll call Coach and let him know we’re taking Atsumu to the hospital.”

Inunaki nods as he and Barnes bend down to help Atsumu to his feet, letting him lean on them. The setter manages two steps forward before stumbling and Hinata quickly catches him before he can crash to the ground yet again.

“Loss of balance,” Inunaki comments, a grim expression on his face. “High possibility it’s a concussion.”

Sakusa trails behind his teammates, guilt rising to drown him under the waves. He watches the way the pair sit Atsumu down on the bench and assure him that the pain will subside soon. Then he notices Adriah frowning as he reaches a hand behind Atsumu’s head and pulls it away slowly, his hand stained a faint crimson.

“He’s bleeding,” Meian realises as Bokuto rushes into the locker room to grab the first aid kit. “Fuck.”

Sakusa walks over just as Bokuto comes back with the first aid kit and hands it to Meian. 

Sakusa doesn’t know where the splintered shred of courage comes from, reaching for the first-aid kit and taking it from his captain’s grasp. “It’s alright, cap. I’ll do it.”

The hesitance isn’t visible on Meian’s face; but his features are marred by the quality. The twitch in his eye and the arch to his right eyebrow. Sakusa knows Meian is evaluating his decision carefully, weighing it on the scales of fairness. A sliver of fear creeps into his ribcage and drills a hole there, worry filling it.

But then Meian nods and hands him the white box, and something inside Sakusa collapses with relief. He thinks it might be his last semblance of sanity.

“Disinfect it before bandaging it,” Meian reminds him. “I’ll go get my car. Bo,” he calls for his silver-haired teammate who accompanies him out the door.

“I’ll get ice,” Hinata says and Inunaki nods. 

“I’ll get a cloth to put it in.”

Barnes and Adriah are soon called away by Meian who asks them to help clean the gym before they head out and Sakusa is left alone with Atsumu who’s been silent for the past few minutes.

“Miya,” he calls softly, reaching up with one hand, resting it on Atsumu’s cheek. Atsumu immediately leans into the touch and Sakusa feels his breath hitch in his throat, heart pounding in his chest.

_My heart isn’t beating faster, my heart isn’t beating faster. I swear it isn’t, get a hold of yourself._

Sakusa clears his throat and dips the cotton wool into the diluted cup of Dettol, reaching up again to dab it on the wound. Atsumu moans pitifully and Sakusa wants to apologise. But he’s also currently incapable of forming grammatically correct sentences so he settles for soothing one-syllable words instead. It sounds as though he’s consoling a cat instead of a human; but Sakusa chooses to ignore that fact, instead diverting all his attention into treating the wound.

He places the cotton wool aside and grabs the roll of gauze. Standing up, he moves to stand behind Atsumu and takes note that the wound isn’t deep. 

“Sorry,” the apology finally slips through his lips and he sighs, taping the wound carefully with one hand and handling the scissors deftly with the other. The sharp blades are moving with equal parts precision and carelessness. Yes it is possible for the two opposite reactions to coexist - in the same manner that Sakusa’s heart keeps beating at an erratic rate and he wants it to stop but at the same time he does _not_.

“Your hands are soft,” comments Atsumu in the midst of Sakusa taping another layer across the wound. This time Sakusa does not mistake the bird struggling to escape the cage in his chest for anything other than affection. 

Words unspoken remain that way - stretched taut between the pair like a spool of thread unwound. Sakusa steps delicately on the tightrope, balancing precariously. There’s no safety net, he’s going to fall, and he knows it. So why is it when his hands come away from bandaging the wound and he strokes Atsumu’s blonde hair softly, he comes to the realisation that maybe falling in this situation is the best way to go?

“Alright,” Meian’s voice pierces the silence and all of Sakusa’s thoughts slip away into the dismal abyss of half-processed notions and quarter-formed ideas. 

“Let’s get going before it gets progressively worse.”

“You mean worse than our star setter bleeding out on a bench because our star spiker slammed the ball into his head so hard it gave him a possible concussion?” Inunaki’s voice rings out as he moves to stand behind Atsumu and press a cloth filled with ice to the wound.

Sakusa flinches at the blunt honesty of Inunaki’s statement but he also knows there is no use trying to remain in the state of denial when the damage has already been done.

“Yes,” Meian answers and Barnes starts whistling a jaunty tune under his breath, the melody of a romantic ballad Sakusa has often heard him singing in the showers.

“Things can _always_ get worse.”

* * *

Things do in fact, get worse.

Sakusa finds himself wedged between Inunaki and Barnes who are having another rematch of Mario Kart with the occasional screams of _“you’re cheating!”_ and _“you wouldn’t know if you weren’t cheating too!”_

Adriah has taken to raiding Atsumu’s kitchen cabinets and pulling out tea-bags of different flavours with Meian providing commentary. 

“Chamomile is great if you can’t sleep.”

“Damn, he has the limited edition passionfruit one too.”

“Oh, peppermint is not everyone’s cup of tea.”

Sakusa groans inwardly at Meian’s attempt at a joke when a yelp sounds from outside on the balcony, where Bokuto and Hinata are playing one-on-one with a spare volleyball stolen from Atsumu’s bedroom. Sakusa wonders how much insurance his two teammates are covered by for them to be so bold as he watches Bokuto lean a little too far back for his liking against the railing.

“I’m going home,” Inunaki announces, stretching his hands over his head and Sakusa refrains from celebrating. 

“Me too,” Barnes echoes the same sentiment just as Bokuto screeches and hits the ball to Hinata who barely avoids it. The pair open the sliding door and enter as Meian holds up his phone.

“I have a date with the missus, who’s gonna take one for the team and stay here to take care of Atsumu?”

Adriah’s hand shoots up immediately, turning to face Sakusa who feels the dread rising in his throat and anxiety hammering against his chest. Adriah smirks and slams the final nail into Sakusa’s metaphorical coffin.

“I’m auctioning off Kiyoomi.”

Sakusa’s eyes widen when his teammates start nodding their heads in agreement, clearly sharing a similar sentiment. Even Hinata is wearing a malicious grin on his face and Sakusa knows that he is well and thoroughly _fucked_ , and not in the way he wanted to be on Valentine’s Day.

“Going once,” Meian starts. “Twice, and sold!”

Sakusa slams his head against the couch, hard.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Inunaki calls out and Sakusa manages to throw a pillow at him that hits Bokuto instead but he doesn’t bother apologising. The door swings shut and silence falls over the apartment once more.

Groaning, Sakusa resigns to his fate and takes off his mask, walking over to the bedroom and turning the knob gently so as to not wake Atsumu up. The setter is still sleeping, knocked out from the painkillers the doctor had prescribed along with at least 12 hours of rest. 

Sakusa stands at the side of the bed and kneels down, brushing his thumb over Atsumu’s cheek. Sakusa takes note of how long his eyelashes are, he never noticed before this. He had also never almost murdered a teammate before this but things change.

A soft sigh slips through Atsumu’s lips and Sakusa pauses midway, wondering how it would feel to kiss those lips.

Atsumu’s eyes crack open slightly just then and Sakusa tries to get up, but a hand wraps around his wrist before he can move.

_“Stay.”_

The one word resonates throughout the space and Sakusa knows this is far beyond the mutual understanding a setter and their spiker have. He has never been obedient enough to follow orders, his own ideology of hard work over luck always taking residence in his temporal lobe. He never submits to anyone; firm beliefs rooted in stone.

But the minute Atsumu asks him to stay, Sakusa comes to be aware of the fact that people can change and he whispers back a reply just as Atsumu’s eyes close again, the fluttering of his eyelashes reminding Sakusa of butterfly wings in the golden light of dawn. 

“I will.”

* * *

Dusk falls by the time Atsumu wake up and Sakusa momentarily abandons the miso soup cooking on the stove when a cough interrupts his concentration. 

“You should be in bed,” he chides Atsumu, helping him to the couch. “The doctor said 12 hours; you’ve only slept for 6.”

“Couldn’t sleep anymore,” Atsumu slurs, but Sakusa notices how the familiar gleam in his eyes is back and smiles softly, shaking his head.

“Always stubborn, aren’t you? Dinner is going to be ready soon, give me 10.”

“Wanna see how ya cook.”

There are many adjectives Sakusa can use to describe Miya Atsumu. Bull-headed seems appropriate in this situation. He helps the setter up once more and lets Atsumu lean against him, guiding him to the kitchen counter where he pulls out a stool and orders the setter to sit down. 

“Smells good,” Atsumu comments and Sakusa bites the inside of his cheek in a futile attempt to hide his sheer joy at the compliment. He chooses to instead turn away from the food, cough, then pour all his focus into the soup again.

It doesn’t take long before Sakusa serves up two bowls of miso soup, taking a seat across from Atsumu and sliding it over to him. Before he can immediately reach for the spoon, Sakusa pushes a glass of water into his left hand and drops two white tablets into his right palm.

“Medicine before food,” he reminds Atsumu as the latter groans in reluctance yet swallows the pills despite his protests. 

“I’m sorry,” Sakusa blurts out after his third mouthful of soup. 

Atsumu’s eyebrows raise in confusion and there’s a trace of a frown as he sets his spoon down and gazes at Sakusa. That’s another habit of Atsumu that Sakusa’s taken note of. His tendency to focus on one thing and only one thing at the same time. The way he stops talking when another one of their teammates starts. The way his eyes settle on the speaker. 

That exact same look is trained on Sakusa now and he feels exposed, more than he’s ever been in his life. More than when Komori first tugged him to volleyball practice and he was introduced to a team sport in which nobody could function alone. More than when he first set eyes on the infamous Miya Twins during the All Japan Youth Training Camp and couldn’t forget the blonde one even when he was lying on his bed back in Tokyo. More than when he walked through the doors of the MSBY gymnasium for the first time and noticed said blonde twin waving at him.

_“Miya Atsumu, setter.”_

Sakusa forgot exactly where along the line had _Miya Atsumu, setter_ turned into _Miya Atsumu, teammate_ , _Miya Atsumu, friend_ and now, Miya Atsumu whose lips looked soft enough to kiss that it was taking Sakusa all the effort to not lunge across the table and jump his bones.

He wasn’t ashamed that he was attracted to the boy in front of him; it was more that he was ashamed it had taken him this long to come to terms with it.

“Omi-kun, ya alright?”

“Mhm,” Sakusa hums in reply, shaking his head and dislodging all the memories, placing them back into the crevices of his grey matter for future use. 

“What exactly were ya apologizing for?” Atsumu asks again.

“For today,” Sakusa explains. “It was a careless mistake on my part and I swear when you started bleeding I started panicking. What if it was a horrible injury and it was all my fault and -”

“What if you stopped spiralling and looked at me?”

Sakusa is forced to look up when Atsumu grabs his chin and tilts his head up, eyes golden like the sunrise even under the dim fluorescent light hanging overhead. 

“Look at me,” Atsumu repeats like a prayer and Sakusa is a devout worshipper at the shrine his surname represents. 

“I am.”

“Good.”

Atsumu leans over and Sakusa closes his eyes when soft lips meet his own. The faint trace of dashi stock lingers on Atsumu’s tongue when Sakusa opens his mouth and he feels the similar fire that courses through his veins on the court now flowing through every single nerve ending, each touch electric and sending him into overdrive.

They pull away to catch their breath and Atsumu grins as Sakusa drags his jersey sleeve across his mouth. Sakusa is well aware that his cheeks are flushed but looking at Atsumu who is wearing a positively giddy expression on his face accompanied by crimson cheeks and bruised lips, he starts laughing.

“What an apology,” Atsumu laughs along and Sakusa grins. 

“I’m so sorry,” he tries again and Atsumu smirks, reaching over to take Sakusa’s hand in his own. Sakusa relishes in the warmth, Atsumu’s thumb drawing circles over his skin.

“I accept yer apology, Omi-kun.”

The door to Atsumu’s unit slams open and bangs against the wall to reveal Barnes and Inunaki staring at them in horror. 

“Who realised first?” Inunaki asks and Sakusa frowns as they make their way into the apartment with the rest of their teammates trailing behind. 

“Realised what?” Atsumu asks and Barnes clicks his tongue in response.

“Who realised who liked who first?”

“We both did, at the same time,” Atsumu retorts.

Confusion morphs into realisation and bleeds into understanding when the questions rolls off Sakusa’s tongue sharply.

“You guys started a running bet, didn’t you? Against who would confess first?”

Inunaki starts backing away while simultaneously passing several bills behind his back to Barnes and Tomas who each grasp half and start heading back towards the door.

“If it brings you guys any consolation,” Hinata speaks up, “captain started it.”

“MEIAN?” Atsumu exclaims in shock.

Sakusa finally notices their captain lingering in the doorway, collecting all the bills that Bokuto is handing him.

“Thank you for finally realising,” he bows his head slightly and Sakusa contemplates second-degree murder.

“Seriously though,” Inunaki interrupts. “It was getting tiring witnessing all the _pining_.”

“And the sexual tension.”

“Don’t forget the occasional tentative glances.”

“Remember that one time they didn’t look at anyone else?”

The dissertation is cut short when Sakusa gets up with a fork in hand and steps closer towards his teammates who hurriedly take three steps back.

“I will stab and dash all of you.”

“HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY! WE WERE NEVER HERE.”

They run out and Sakusa loses count of the number of times the door was slammed shut within the span of 12 hours. He’s surprised it’s still surviving on the hinges. 

“So, Omi-kun,” Atsumu starts and gets up, getting closer to Sakusa who finds himself suddenly pinned against the kitchen counter. Atsumu leans in with a grin to whisper in his ear. 

“I need someone to take care of me while I’m still injured. Ya willing to stay a little longer?”

Sakusa watches his eyelashes flutter, reaching out to brush a finger over them. One hum of contentment, two boys finding each other, three words with no need to be said. 

“There’s a first time for everything.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Come yell at me about Sakuatsu and Osasuna on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/cherrybomb_su)


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